Qin Yi narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the burly man before him. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk curled at the corner of his lips.
"Luowang? What the hell is that?"
His tone was casual, indifferent, as though the man wasn't even worth his attention. Raising a hand to fan the air theatrically before his nose, Qin Yi wrinkled his face in mock disgust. "Could it be that everyone in Luowang smells like pests? Anyone who encounters you has no choice but to back away?"
The words were barely out when the leader's face darkened, his expression turning ashen. At first, he had assumed the boy was simply a lunatic. Now it was clear—this brat was deliberately toying with him!
Nearby, the scar-faced man, struggling to prop himself against the wall, couldn't help but twitch his lips at the audacity. *This kid… truly fearless, like a newborn calf staring down a tiger.*
"You!"
The leader's teeth gnashed audibly as a sharp gleam flared in his eyes. Taking a step forward, his voice dropped to a venomous growl. "You dare insult Luowang? You must have a death wish!"
Before his words faded, the man drew a short blade from his waist, lunging directly at Qin Yi's chest. Simultaneously, two of his subordinates flanked Qin Yi from either side, their weapons flashing ominously.
Yet, facing the sudden onslaught, Qin Yi's expression remained unfazed. If anything, there was a glimmer of excitement in his gaze. Slowly, he raised a hand to trace the hilt of the military knife at his waist, his demeanor sharp as an eagle's.
*Perfect. These fools can help me test just how far my strength has come.*
Since taking the energy-enhancing pill, Qin Yi had made significant strides in both his internal power and physical prowess. Yet, with the pill's effects waning, his cultivation had hit a bottleneck. He knew all too well that breaking through further required a superior martial arts manual—something not easily found.
With eyes alight, he gripped his knife tightly and charged toward the incoming assailants!
"Clang—!"
Blades clashed, sparks flying in all directions. What happened next stunned everyone: the leader's short blade shattered on impact, its severed half spinning to the ground with a crisp metallic clang.
A hush fell over the scene.
The leader stared dumbly at his broken weapon, momentarily stunned. The scar-faced man's eyes widened in disbelief, his face betraying sheer astonishment. *This seemingly youthful boy carries an aura of unyielding dominance… far from ordinary.*
Qin Yi's calm smile lingered as he assessed the surge of power coursing through his veins. *Though my raw strength may not surpass this man's by much, combined with my King's Might, he's no match for me.*
Without hesitation, Qin Yi struck again. His left fist shot out like thunder, crashing into the leader's chest with devastating force.
"Bang!"
The man let out a strangled scream as the sound of cracking ribs echoed. He was hurled backward like a broken kite, collapsing into a heap.
Not waiting for the others to react, Qin Yi turned, his killing intent radiating as he lunged at the remaining two attackers.
The flash of his blade was swift, merciless.
*Slash!*
*Slash!*
Two muffled sounds marked the end of the fight as two severed heads hit the ground, their lifeless eyes wide with disbelief. It seemed incomprehensible to them, even in death, that they had fallen to a mere youth.
The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, crimson droplets splattering Qin Yi's garments. He paid them no heed, a strange thrill coursing through him instead. *The taste of battle… it's exhilarating!*
Just then, a peculiar change swept through Qin Yi's gaze. His pupils shifted unnaturally, revealing an eerie pair of double pupils—more pronounced than ever before, brimming with a mysterious, unfathomable power. Yet Qin Yi himself remained oblivious to the transformation.
Turning back to the leader, now sprawled and gasping on the ground, Qin Yi pressed a foot against the man's chest, his voice as cold as frost. "Speak. Who sent you to stir trouble in Fancheng?"
The leader, though gravely injured, retained a mocking sneer. He laughed hoarsely, his tone venomous. "Heh… you'll never understand the kind of power you've offended!"
Qin Yi's gaze darkened, his killing intent surging.
"The master we serve will avenge us!" the man hissed through gritted teeth. His tone grew more sinister as he added, "And you, Qin Yi, will be torn to shreds! Not just you—your family, friends, and loved ones will suffer fates worse than death! Hahaha…"
*Slash!*
Without hesitation, Qin Yi's blade descended like lightning, cutting short the man's deranged laughter.
His eyes shifted to the scar-faced man lying nearby, who clung feebly to life.
"Brother Jia," Qin Yi addressed him calmly, his voice low and steady. "It's time you told me your real name. And while you're at it, explain—who are these people? Who sent them? What's their purpose?"
The scar-faced man's lips curled in a faint, bitter smile. He exhaled weakly, his voice barely audible. "My name… forgotten long ago. In the martial world, they call me… Xuan Jian."
"Xuan Jian?"
Qin Yi murmured the name, his expression shifting as the memory of a legendary figure surfaced in his mind. A creeping suspicion began to form—had he somehow crossed into a realm of historical fiction or perhaps an amalgamation of worlds?
Pushing the thought aside, Qin Yi refocused, his tone sharpening. "Continue."
Xuan Jian nodded faintly, his breath labored but steady enough to speak. "Those men… they're from Luowang—the greatest assassin organization under heaven. They were sent to kill me… because of these swords."
With trembling hands, Xuan Jian revealed a pair of blades, their icy brilliance illuminated by the moonlight.
"These two swords—one black, one white—are the Twin Blades of Xuan Jian," Xuan Jian said, his voice heavy with gravitas, as though unraveling an ancient legend.
The black blade, "Xuan," gleamed with a darkness as profound as the night. Its edge rippled like flowing ink, with a faint, chilling glimmer hinting at countless souls it had reaped. Intricate ancient runes adorned its surface, each stroke etched deep with a weight of untold histories—of warriors fallen, battles fought, and an unending legacy of bloodshed. Its hilt, forged from cold black iron, carried an icy touch that seemed to pierce the marrow, exuding an aura as forbidding as the northern frost. Fine threads, crimson like blood, coiled around the hilt, pulsating faintly like veins alive with latent malice.
The white blade, "Jian," shone with the clarity of an autumnal spring, its brilliance subdued yet radiating a quiet, restrained power. The blade, though icy to behold, lacked aggression, exuding instead a solemn tranquility. Its slender edge evoked the elegance of a lone crane gliding through the heavens. A faint golden glow pulsed intermittently along its center, forming cryptic sigils that seemed to whisper oaths of unwavering guardianship. Its jade-like hilt, wrapped in soft, pale-green silk, felt warm to the touch, as though it bore the silent promise of a sentinel's devotion.
"One blade to claim lives, the other to guard souls," Xuan Jian intoned solemnly.
Though contrasting in essence—one ferocious as a slumbering beast, the other serene as a secluded breeze—their coexistence achieved a delicate harmony, embodying the cosmic interplay of yin and yang. These were no mere weapons; they were relics of a bygone era, imbued with the weight of history, legend, and the might of kings.
In their presence, the world seemed to fade, leaving only the twin swords as the center of all existence. Their brilliance was captivating, their majesty overwhelming.
"Luowang's master, Lao Ai, has long coveted these swords," Xuan Jian confessed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "To claim them, he has unleashed Luowang's full might to hunt me down."
Qin Yi's eyes narrowed, his voice like tempered steel. "Why does Lao Ai want these swords so badly?"
Xuan Jian gave a wan smile. "Who can say? Perhaps… he dreams of forging an empire unmatched in history."